


Blue (that's for his eyes)

by Snowfilly1



Series: Valentine's Oneshots 2020 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anniversary, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Romance, ineffable valentines 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowfilly1/pseuds/Snowfilly1
Summary: Crowley turns a half circle, letting the dress twist around his legs. It's simple by his standards: royal blue dress, his wedding ring on a silver chain round his neck, blue flat shoes because even demonic miracles don't allow his gait to mix with heels. It also feels a bit much, if he's honest.Or: Crowley dresses up to take his angel out for an anniversary dinner and starts to second guess himself. Aziraphale reassures him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Valentine's Oneshots 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631470
Comments: 7
Kudos: 87
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Blue (that's for his eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> No smut, despite Aziraphale's best attempts. Kissing and leg stroking only. Crowley is using male pronouns, wearing a dress and having a good time.

Aziraphale is speechless. 

Crowley mentally puts that down as a win to him and stands in the living room doorway a moment longer. 

‘Good evening. You could try speaking to me, you know,’ and he watches as the angel blushes. 

‘Crowley, dearest, you look…beautiful.’

‘Sure?’ He turns a half circle, letting the dress twist around his legs. It's simple by his standards: royal blue dress, his wedding ring on a silver chain round his neck, blue flat shoes because even demonic miracles don't allow his gait to mix with heels. It also feels a bit much, if he's honest. 

‘Very.’ It’s more an exhale of breath than a word. ‘You have no idea.’

A tension he hadn’t been fully aware of falls away from Crowley. It’s not that Aziraphale isn’t used to him switching things around, but he doesn’t normally dress like this. In fact, he’s not sure if Aziraphale has ever seen him in a dress before, and blue is a new colour for him anyway. (He didn’t pick it because it matched Aziraphale’s eyes. Honestly.) 

‘Come here,’ and he does as he’s asked, walking across into Aziraphale’s arms. The angel is dressed up as well, although in his case, that’s simply a new jacket and bowtie. 

‘If you dare smudge my makeup,’ he manages to threaten before Aziraphale is kissing him. 

‘Wouldn’t dream of it, dearest.’ 

A hand very very gently eases across his lips, and he feels the faintest flicker of a miracle. ‘Repairing the damage doesn’t count as not smudging, Aziraphale.’

‘Oh, do hush, my dear serpent. You miracle it on in the first place, don’t you?’

He wants to reply but Aziraphale’s hands are doing something very distracting in his hair – it’s short at the moment, shortest it’s been in centuries but the angel still manages to wrap his fingers in it – and he can hardly remember to breathe, let alone talk. 

It’s Aziraphale who pulls away with a regretful sigh in the end. ‘Don’t want to miss our booking.’

He thinks of offering to stop time; of letting Aziraphale keep kissing him, of taking him to bed to celebrate properly, of skipping all the niceties and pushing him against the wall as he’d done in Tadfield last year. Parts of him think all of those ideas have merit, and Aziraphale’s grinning, that ‘I am a complete bastard’ smirk that drives Crowley mad. He’d think all of them were good ideas and probably have a few of his own. 

‘I did book us a room, you know. For…after,’ and now he’s the one blushing. Humans booked romantic hotel stays for anniversaries all the time, but he wasn’t sure what the protocol was for ethereal and occult beings. Wasn’t sure, even now, that Aziraphale would appreciate something so blatant. 

Aziraphale smiles at him. He’s never had words to describe how it makes him feel. 

‘Oh, what a wonderful idea. Let me get my coat.’ He does that, and pauses by Crowley, touching a hand against his. 

‘You do look beautiful, my dear. Not too much of anything, please don't think that. My beautiful demon.'

Aziraphale’s hand touches Crowley’s thigh briefly as he drives, and then returns to its normal place braced against the glove box as Crowley doesn’t slow down for a corner. All’s well with the world, then, and he finds himself smiling. 

He parks the Bentley; Ritz staff or not, they don’t get to drive his car, and Aziraphale turns to look at him for a moment. The summer evening light haloes around him. For a moment, a long moment, he’s lost, gazing in adoration verging into worship. 

Then there’s another of those almost demonic grins, a hand quite a bit higher than it was previously and Aziraphale asking ‘so what have you got under there?’ His tone of voice is one that he normally only uses in bed.

‘Clothes or, or…?’ he waves a hand vaguely at himself, and sees Aziraphale track the gesture, eyes wide. 

‘Whatever. Whatever you’d like to tell me about.’

He laces his fingers with Aziraphale’s and the angel squeezes his leg gently. The dress bunches under their hands. ‘You’ll have to wait until after dinner and find out for yourself. On both accounts.’

‘Fiend,’ Aziraphale complains, and pulls their joined hand up to his lips. Brushes a kiss against Crowley’s knuckles. ‘I love you.’

**Author's Note:**

> If I had any talent at all, this would have been fanart. But I haven't so a fic it is.


End file.
